Unmentionables
by JamesEdmundWulfricElvisLionel
Summary: Ulquiorra Schiffer got hardcore hammered. When he wakes up, he realizes he's not in his own house, but Grimmjow Jeagerjaques' bed... a man who just moved in down the street. Both are in for an incredible shock... GrimmUlqui.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own Bleach. Tite Kubo does. I had fun with this, hope you do too.**

**This is my first try at a Bleach GrimmUlqui fan fiction. Rated T for swearing. Reviews and PMs are appreciated.**

Ulquiorra Schiffer stirred, screwing up his eyes as he ogled at the ceiling. _My companions are trash… getting me unbelievably smashed. I'll waste them. But for now…. _He thought to himself as he rotated over and laid the feather pillow over his throbbing head.

He shifted his arms to sprawl out across the bed. He felt snug… until he felt skin and… rippling abs. He began to realize with much revulsion and dread that these weren't his sheets. That ceiling was not his ceiling. Instant fear crept up his spine, prickling his skin and all of his organs leapt and dropped to freezing temperatures. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned his face to see what was to his right. Or _who_ was to his right.

A sleeping face of a _man_ with rock hard abs was lying, shirtless beside him. So this man owned this house. Not Ulquiorra, who had obviously been too intoxicated to realize he had stumbled into a house that was not his own. Why the door was not locked, he had no idea. This man must have a death wish to leave his door unlocked at night time.

Ulquiorra grasped the dangerous concept in a swift second. This man could over power him, if he came around and found the dark haired, green eyed twenty-two year old, lying in his bed.

With all the adrenaline pumping through his veins he devised two plans, one coming from his reasonable side, and the other coming from his half insane, half drunken state of mind. Plan A: run as fast as fuck and hope to God that this man doesn't wake up when Ulquiorra runs screaming down the stairs and running around his house, looking for an exit. Plan B: Retract arm from his chest as leisurely as possible, and slowly creep down the stairs, and run like never before to a bus stop.

A thought dawned on him. He didn't even know where the hell he was.

Plan B was most logical though. His dark, enticing green eyes were as wide as humanly possible as he lifted his arm, at a snail's pace, off the man's chest.

The man's hair was a strange teal, and extremely messy. It would take an exceptionally blind idiot to deny this man was _very _good looking. He was just plain sexy.

But in this very moment, Ulquiorra feared for his life and his sexuality. For all he knew, he could be a gay pervert when he was drunk. Trying to get this out of his mind, he coaxed himself as calmly as possible. _Almost off his chest… almost there. _Exceedingly bright blue eyes flicked opened and widened at him. Ulquiorra rolled off the bed and slammed onto the floor, putting as much distance between them as possible. With his head spinning and his terror growing like a monster inside of him, he wanted to scream the first thing he could imagine would diffuse the situation or at least convince the man to not freak out. Nothing came to mind. Nothing that would calm either of them, anyway.

The man stood up with an almost dazed expression, his fists balled as he gawked at Ulquiorra.

Plan A: Run as fast as fuck. GO! He didn't bother grabbing his pants on the floor as he jumped up. Ulquiorra slept in his boxers all the time. Never again. _Never again. _

Like a bullet, Ulquiorra ripped the door open and bolted down the stairs. He stumbled and tripped on cardboard boxes, each labelled Jeagerjaques. As he glanced back up the stairs, he saw the man—still flabbergasted—looking down at him. He had no idea where the door was, but when he saw an open window, he crawled through it and ran like hell onto the street.

He turned to see the number 64 Espada Street. _Shit. _He ran down, bare foot until he came to the house 46. _No wonder I thought that was my house._

As Ulquiorra glanced at his trembling fingers, he slammed his head against his door. _My house keys… they're at his house. I'm sure of it. They must be inside my pants. _

He lifted the mat and grabbed the spare key, unlocking the door while cursing, "shit, you damn idiot." Ulquiorra slammed the door behind him as a white cat weaved through his legs. He picked him up and ran up the stairs.

"Pantera, I am a fool." Ulquiorra told his purring cat as he pulled clean clothes and a towel from a linen cabinet and bureau. He popped a few Advil to relieve his migraine. "This stays between us. I will never tell my acquaintances, even if it kills me." He hissed, shutting the door behind him. He climbed into the glass shower, his eyes still wide with shock and terror. _Jeagerjaques… you are on my list of unmentionables. I will never see you again. That is a promise. I can't even believe that happened._ He shampooed and body washed, trying to rid himself of the memories of that house.

He dressed and began drying his hair when the noon package delivery rang the doorbell. It rang. And rang. And rang. _And rang. _

Ulquiorra dashed down the stairs and continued to dry his hair, the towel draped over his face as he opened the door.

"Jeeze kid, how long does it take you to open the damn door?" A gruff voice growled at him. "I'm Grimmjow Jeagerjaques"—_whoa. What was that name? No. No. Not possible. Keep the towel over your face—_"and I just moved in, down the street at 64."

Ulquiorra clutched the black shirt with a skull to his chest. _Oh dear God. _

"Well, take it." He shoved the box at Ulquiorra's chest, causing him to be pushed backwards a little. His towel slipped off to reveal his pale cheeks darken and his emerald eyes close in fright.

Grimmjow Jeagerjaques' mouth dropped open in astonishment. He quickly recovered and a wide grin spread across his face. "You're the little punk who broke into my house and slept beside me." He laughed, tilting his head back. "I can't _wait _to hear your explanation." Although his face was delighted, his tone was incredibly threatening.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: hello. I don't own Bleach. This is by far the most fun I've had writing a fanfic. Better than the last chapter. Cheers.**

_Explanations. They start with a beginning, they explain in the middle, and then they end. Usually when explanations are told, you have all the details. _

_I don't have all the details. _Ulquiorra ineptly poured some coffee for his latest, unwanted house guest. He did not frequently have guests. This is the sort of things you do with a visitor, right?

"Stop wasting my time—" Grimmjow took out a card and gave it a fleeting look—"Ulquiorra Schiffer."

Ulquiorra's head snapped up rapidly. _My ID... So much for giving a fake name to this ass hole._

"Why don't you explain to me what you were doing this morning, in my bedroom?" Grimmjow's slanted smirk sent Ulquiorra's heart into a blender.

"Why is it that you have my mail?" Ulquiorra retorted calmly, pouring sugar in his coffee and sipping it daintily, composing himself.

"They mixed up the address." Grimmjow waved his hand dismissively. "Why were you trying to sleep with me?" Grimmjow beamed at Ulquiorra's phased face. His eyes slightly widened and his lips tightened. "Was it some kind of neighbourhood welcome party?"  
>"Yes, you hedonistic man. The cake's on Tuesday." Ulquiorra hissed impatiently, coating each word with disgust and hatred. He hurriedly took another sip of coffee to stop himself from swearing chaotically.<p>

"Will you jump out of it?" Grimmjow leaned forward casually. He leaned his chin on his hands as he stared into the emerald eyed boy.

Ulquiorra spat out some coffee and quickly wiped his lips. His eyes narrowed at the voluptuous Grimmjow, sitting there in all his pride, "You impertinent low life…" _What a sleazebag… what a piece of trash! I do not like being… teased. _"And for your information, scum, I was incredibly inebriated last night, celebrating—if you will—and happened to go into your… _hideous_ house."

"It's only hideous because I'm not finished decorating it yet." His eyes toyed over each and every part of Ulquiorra's body. This unnerved him. It frustrated him. It _disturbed _him.

"Stop _looking_ at me like that." Ulquiorra snapped, his pale cheeks almost glowing a pink shade. Almost.

"Like what?" Grimmjow feigned innocence, his eyes continuing to rake across Ulquiorra's face.

"Like you've seen me exposed." Ulquiorra growled, crossing his self-conscious arms over his chest.

"I've pictured it," Grimmjow grinned honestly, watching Ulquiorra go a full-out-red. He'd done it. He had made this emotionless rich boy go red. That had never happened. Not once. Not ever.

Ulquiorra pointed to the door. Words seemed not strong enough. The f-shot seemed like a child's word. He needed words stronger. Louder. Ruder. Hate filled. But instead, all he could say was. "SLEAZE!"

"Tease," Grimmjow snickered, not moving.

"Perverted, disgusting, trashy, fuck head!" Ulquiorra didn't know where this was coming from. Fuck head? What in God's name was a fuck head? Where was he getting this from?

"Ah, so your true colours show." Grimmjow leaned back in the chair. His muscles were so… taunting. It was if his t-shirt was supposed to deliberately haunt him. As if to say 'Punch me'!

"Leave. Or I will—"

"You going to attack me in my sleep again? If that's the case, I'll tell you how I like my eggs in the morning." He winked, taking _my_ coffee and drinking from it.

Flabbergasted, Ulquiorra opened his mouth, only to realize nothing was coming out.

"You have some great lips. Let's put a drink in between them. Let's say… Friday night. At the bar around the corner."

"You must be some kind of brainless imbecile to _think_… no, to even consider…" Ulquiorra let every word roll off his tongue and stab that stupid home wrecker in the face.

Grimmjow fiddled with Ulquiorra's wallet. His ID, his work ID, his driver's license... and a picture of his cat. "So… you're an intern at the Alexander General Hospital? Never would have pegged you as the 'nurse' type."

"Surgeon, in training, first of all. And second off, give me back my ID and get out."

To Ulquiorra's surprise, he did stand up, cocked an eyebrow and sauntered towards the front door. "See you tomorrow then," he purred at him, smiling.

"What?" Ulquiorra was taken by surprise at his constant assurance they'd _ever_ see each other again. Ulquiorra wouldn't let that happen. He'd make sure of it.

Grimmjow's strange blue eyes twinkled in confidence… in… evil delight, desire and mischief. He took out his own wallet, held out an ID that was the exact same as Ulquiorra's. "Starting tomorrow, I'm chief of surgery in Alexander… So… if you want life to go smoothly and become a good nurse… start learning to kiss my ass."

Ulquiorra's face paled tremendously. He took the ID in one slightly shaking hand and feebly shoved it back at Grimmjow.

Grimmjow couldn't help but smile at the ashen faced boy. He turned to the door before saying, "Oh and I like coffee, black, in the morning. Two sugars. Thanks." And he was gone.

Ulquiorra stood at the door for seconds. Two minutes. _Ten. _Motionless. Expressionless. _Defenceless. _

Work tomorrow for the new intern wouldn't be quite as planned. Just like last night. The day of him celebrating the beginning of his internship at Alexander General Hospital.

_Ugh. Fuck. _


	3. Chapter 3

**IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry I have been like AWAL for quite a while! I have school, so I was pretttty busy. And stressed. But now it's summer. HUZZAH! PS. I like PMs, so please feel free to do so! And review. It gives me inspiration!**

**With love, your JEWEL.**

Ulquiorra was prepared. He was prepared to fight the battle against his new found unmentionable, Grimmjow. Or, he should call it, Dr. Jeagerjaques now… his fucking boss. His superior. His leader. His teacher. His—

God, you get the fucking point. Ulquiorra is completely fucked. There was really nothing he could do. Or so he thought. But we all know predators like themselves a little prey.

His dark, unseeing eyes peer forward, ignoring his competition. He was technically a newbie, but he already knew what he wanted his specialty to be.

The chief of the hospital shifted through the crowd giving forced, I've-done-this-thirteen-thousand-times smiles. "Welcome to Alexander. Your first shift begins right now. Most of you will quit under the pressure, change to a different specialty or have to retake some of the tests. This isn't University or College anymore. This is the big leagues. Someone will read out who your mentor is. Change into your scrubs, and enjoy."

Ulquiorra got the feeling that when he said 'enjoy' he meant for _them_, the superiors, to enjoy. Enjoy the thrill of the newbies' competitions, failures, and meltdowns. Before Ulquiorra had started his daunting internship, he was absolutely certain that he would not meltdown. He knew his strength was masking his emotions. It was normal for him to not feel anything so that he could focus on life. Life is too short to have emotions. Everyone is hanging by a string in life's great struggle. Why on Earth would you want to have your emotions snip away at the thread above you just to wake up, on the ground? Once you're on the ground, you're at the point of no return. The point of unhappiness. Those unmentionable occurrences that no one tells you about, but in your heart, you know they're there. And you know that if you don't keep climbing that thread, you will fall.

Ulquiorra did not plan to fall. His plan was to hang on for dear life no matter how much Grimmjow plans to push him. He will prevail, and he will keep climbing.

"Inoue, Orihime with Dr. Byakuya Kuchiki," A man reads from a paper.

This busty ginger breathes in and adjusts her hair. "Do you think Dr. Kuchiki is nice?" She whispers to the person beside her, which happens to be Ulquiorra.

He doesn't answer, just waits to hear his own name.

Apparently she believes he had not heard her, because she repeats herself louder. "Do you think Dr. Kuchiki is nice?"

Ulquiorra narrows his eyes at her, "Does it look like I'm nice?" He hisses bitterly at her.

"U-uh, um…" she mumbles stupidly, her grey eyes widening.

"Then _don't talk to me, _stupid girl_._" He fixates his eyes on the man reading, pulling on his shirt.

"Schiffer, Ulquiorra… Dr. Nnoitra Gilga."

The corner of Ulquiorra's lip lifted ever-so slightly into a smirk. Bingo. No Grimmjow for him. This is a huge hospital…. He wouldn't have to see him.

Who was he _kidding?_ He is the Chief of Surgery. Any chance of getting into the OR was all under his control.

His feet move towards a tall man with the name 'Dr. Gigla' on his name tag. A small man, with an uncanny hair cut, continues forward with him.

"You got Gilga too? He looks really fricken creepy… I'm Luppi." He extends his hand sideways to Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra stops two meters behind Gilga. "I don't care." He mutters to Luppi, rejecting his hand.

Nnoitra turns around with his menacing, unattractive grin. "I'm Nnoitra Gilga. This job kills people. Literally. Sometimes the dying one is you, because of the stress. This is a fast pace job, so if you can't run like a dog, I suggest you become something simple. Like a foot doctor." He glances specifically at a tall, buff man. Ulquiorra thinks his name is Yammy Llargo, or something ridiculous like that.

Yammy raises a ginger brow and gives him the 'Dude, I oughta stick a scalpel in your eye for even _suggesting_ that.' But instead he remains docile… and silent.

"Well, come along. Rounds start at the beginning of your shift. If you forget something as simple as that, then I'll kill you myself."

Ulquiorra continues to walk absent mindedly behind the others. A cool rush of air glides down his neck. In alarm, his shoulders jolts upwards, and his hand slaps the sensitive area. He turns around with a sense of complete and utter dread at the chuckle behind him.

"Ooh, you have a sensitive neck? I'll make note of that." Grimmjow grins, in all his glory, at Ulquiorra and his bewildered gaze.

Speechless. This never happens. No words can form in his mind, or in his mouth.

"So, have you decided to take me up on my offer? Friday night? Bar around the corner?" Grimmjow steps closer to Ulquiorra. Unnervingly close. Ulquiorra's head tips up to see his eyes.

"Hell no. Now get out of my way, trash." Ulquiorra growled in frustration.

"I believe you were going that way," Grimmjow purrs sassily, pointing behind Ulquiorra. Which was true. He did turn around. Ulquiorra's face flushed in embarrassment. "It's okay, don't be embarrassed. I'm known for making people's mind go blank." He winks. "If you know what I mean."

"I don't believe I do." Ulquiorra turns haughtily, his chin higher than usual as he continues down the hall. Grimmjow is sticking close to his heels, following him.

"I could always _show_ you." Grimmjow's finger trails down Ulquiorra's back… his smirk is insatiable.

Ulquiorra's pace quickens as his eyes widen in pure terror. "Keep your disgusting hands off me at all times. Or else I will disembowel you with a scalpel."

"Kinky," Grimmjow sneers in Ulquiorra's ear. He stops dead in his tracks, Grimmjow bumping against him at the sudden stop.

"I will never go out with you, sleep with you, or even stand near you. So just give up. Or I will drop you like a fly."

Grimmjow raises an eyebrow. "I don't think you realise the food chain around here. So let me draw it out for you. There's the interns. They are nothing but lackies. Then there are the residents. They mean more, and they get to boss kids like _you_ around. The attendings are the big guys. They say who does what, and when they want shit done."

"I already know—"

"Then there is me. Chief of Surgery. And what I say goes. Attendings listen to me. Residents obey me. And little runts like you… interns… they do whatever I say. I can assign what you do. And Ulquiorra Schiffer, today… and for the rest of this week, you're on the best job of them all."

Ulquiorra took a breath in, before frowning.

"You're on rectal exams." Grimmjow's smile curls into a malevolent smirk. He slapped Ulquiorra on the backside before walking down the hall in his own little haven. "See you later, fancy face." He called back to Ulquiorra, enraging him further.

Ulquiorra's face drained. _He touched my ass. He put me on rectal exams. He touched my ass! I will kill him. Ruthlessly… _"I will never go out with scum like you!" he hisses, slamming his fist to his forehead. He turns slightly to see two other interns gawking at him in an entertained but confused way.

"Fuck off." He turns around and begins walking off in the direction his fellow interns had gone earlier.

**A/N: Thanks for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I am really appreciating the love and reviews! Thank you so much, they help a lot. With love, JEWEL.**

**I don't own Bleach, cheers. Huzzah.**

Ulquiorra's blank expression stares into the smudged mirror in the bathroom of Alexander General Hospital. He continuously scrubs his sullied hands, to rid the memory of twenty-nine rectal exams he had performed his first day.

For the past nine and a half minutes, he has been scrubbing those very tiny, delicate—yet very lethal and agile—hands in the steaming water. _No amount of soap in the world can rid me of these shameful memories. _His lip slightly curls. _Human anuses are disgusting. _

"Is that the intern fucking Jeagerjaques?" A man with pink hair whispers to a man beside him.

Ulquiorra sighs, pumping a large mountain of soap onto his wrinkled hands. He decides to just ignore these useless rumours. If he denies them, then obviously people will just hassle him more. All he wants is a quiet… _under the radar_ life.

"Yeah, Ulquiorra Schiffer." The strange man with pink hair glances at Ulquiorra in the mirror. "He's really pretty," He mumbles. After getting a look from the other male, he adds quickly, "You know… for a guy."

_I remember hearing their names from the morning… they're both attendings. _They were both at the nurses' station, just outside one of the rooms Ulquiorra was doing a rectal exam in. The pink haired guy was Szayel or something. The brunette was Coyote… or Dr. Starrk.

"Heard he was into S and M," Szayel snickers, washing his hands.

Schiffer's face turns beat red instantly. He refuses to look up or react. _Those infidels think they can get a rise out of you…. Just relax. _He shuts his eyes, determinedly chanting in his head; _quiet life, peaceful life, quite life, peaceful life. _

"Where'd you hear that?" Starrk murmurs, ripping paper towel off for the two of them.

"Rangiku told me, who was told by Ikkaku, who was told by Byakuya who was probably told by Grimmjow," Szayel sniggers again.

"Shut your fucking face this instant, you scum bag." Ulquiorra whirls on Szayel, turning off the tap. "That infuriating piece of trash you all worship is a _liar_." He rips off a piece of his own paper towel and retorts sassily, "As if _I _would stoop so low to even _consider_ sleeping with that… is just sordid." He opens the door with unnecessary force and down the hall he goes, hearing their laughter as he scurries away with a red face.

In the cafeteria, he grabs a small salad, a pudding, and an iced tea. But as he turns to sit at a table, unwanted eyes follow and judge him.

"That's Schiffer…"

"Really?"

"Heard he was getting into all the attendings' pants…"

"Seriously? I thought it was just Grimmjow's…"

"I heard Grimmjow pays him to sleep with him… what a man whore."

Ulquiorra's face pales as all these murmurs circle around him. His breathing begins to quicken and his head swirls gloomily. _How nauseating… _He thinks as he finds those beautiful blue eyes watching him from afar. Those lips peeling up into a smirk. A smirk that says 'I have won'.

His feet drag as he exits the cafeteria with his tray. He finds the closest washroom and thanks all that is holy that he is alone.

He exhales, looking into the mirror, and clutching his chest. His hearts thuds and clenches on itself. Ulquiorra's shaky hands find the pill bottle in his pocket, popping one in his mouth and sucking down a gulp of iced tea. He breathes more evenly, sitting on the sinks ledge. He pulls his salad onto his lap, pouring dressing on top.

And at this moment, Ulquiorra felt so alone and so alienated.

After lunch he washes his hands, and opens the door and heads to the nurses' station to receive his charts. For more glorious rectal exams.

The nurses' station only had three people at it; the nurse, the Devil, and Byakuya Kuchiki. His eyes close for a moment before he opens them and strides to the farthest point from them.

Kuchiki whispers into Grimmjow's ear, quite loudly. "Lover boy is here." Grimmjow's head snaps up and stares at Ulquiorra.

Ulquiorra's fierce glare meets both of theirs. And for forty-three very long seconds, they all just _stare_ at each other. One could only imagine lightning meeting up in the middle of their gazes.

"Couldn't stay away from me, eh?" Grimmjow finally purrs.

Ulquiorra turns his head and keeps it held high with pride. He flips through his chart, completely ignoring the pointless life form awaiting his answer.

"Usually when you have one-night stands, they're all over you." Byakuya notes blandly. "This one is different."

"Well, I don't know how the rumours started up about me paying him to sleep with me, but I only told _our_ friends." Grimmjow says directly to Byakuya.

"I suspect Kenpachi said something. Can't keep his mouth shut about these types of things." Byakuya shrugs, glancing at Ulquiorra. "I like this one though."

"Definitely a keeper, right?" Grimmjow grins and winks at Ulquiorra.

His face flashes red as he continues to write on his chart. His hand trembles with fury.

"He's so high-strung and uptight all the time, it's so… adorable." Grimmjow is purposefully waving a red flag in front of an angry bull. Seeing that he is so close to pushing him over the edge, he decides to make him _run_ off that edge. "It's always the quiet, hot and bothered ones that are freaky in bed."

Byakuya steps back with his chart and raises his eyebrows as Ulquiorra slowly turns towards Grimmjow. Hot and bothered… that he was. He definitely was now.

Ulquiorra steps up to Grimmjow and puts both hands on his pen, holding it up to the other man's chest and snapping it in half. The blue ink splattered all over Grimmjow's neck and scrubs.

"You weren't kidding. He does have a temper," Byakuya gazes at Ulquiorra's scarlet face.

"You are the most vile, dishonourable man I have ever met in my entire life." Ulquiorra hisses, slamming his small hands into Grimmjow's chest. "Stop annoying me. You're wasting your time."

"Time spent with you is worth wasting," Grimmjow smiles innocently, though his eyes portray his ulterior motives.

"Your mind is full of shit." Ulquiorra growls, staring into Grimmjow's perfect eyes.

"I like feeling full. It's satisfying not to feel empty. Would you like to be full of me?" His eyebrows rise in a perverted, sleazy way.

Byakuya snorts as Ulquiorra steps back, and blushes. "You are—"

"Forward? Confident? Talented? Sexy?" Grimmjow interrupts him. He holds up his hand in front of Ulquiorra's face. "By the way, does this smell like chloroform to you?" He asks teasingly. But it is just enough to make Ulquiorra explode.

"I will kill you." Schiffer says slowly. "And it will be so painful." He glares at the hand in front of his face. He spat directly on his palm and gazes into Grimmjow's eyes with extreme resentment.

"I'll make sure to use this hand later tonight when I—"

"Is there a problem here?" Nnoitra Gilga asks, glowering at Ulquiorra. "Is my intern causing you trouble, Dr. Jeagerjaques?"

Grimmjow smirks and shakes his head. "Yes. You see, he just can't stay away from me."

Ulquiorra huffs in embarrassment, crossing his arms. "No, I think the problem is that he can't get any, so he bothers me."

Nnoitra opens his mouth, but Grimmjow beats him to it. "That's untrue. You can't deny that you woke up in my bedroom a couple nights ago. We had a nice time, didn't we?"

"I believe our definitions of 'nice' are not the same." Ulquiorra snaps.

Nnoitra slides out from between the two and continues down the hall, scratching his head.

"That's my resident." Ulquiorra growls, dumbfounded. "I can't believe you just…."

"Don't worry about Gilga. He's my underling." Grimmjow waves his hand away dismissively. "If you agree to a date with me, then there will be no more rectal exams, and no more harassing you in front of Gilga."

Ulquiorra glances at Byakuya who is just standing there, fake-reading his chart. Although it was a very unconvincing fake-reading. "No more rumours?" He asks skeptically.

"None at all."

"Fine, fuck head," _there I go again with my stupid excuse for an insult, _"You can take me on a date. _One _date." Before Grimmjow could look _too _proud, Ulquiorra adds, "But." Grimmjow's face falls slightly, "You will pay for my meal. You will pick me up at 7 _sharp_. And this will be the worst date in the history of mankind. I will make this as excruciating as possible. And you will regret ever trying to win over Ulquiorra Schiffer."

"See you at seven on Friday, baby." Grimmjow winks, making a slow move to grab his hand.

"_Don't call me baby._" Ulquiorra's eyebrows furrow, pulling his hand away. "Like, ever."

"Alright sunshine, don't be so touchy."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Oh so much happiness! I love the reviews! Thank you to all those who take the time to review, this one's for you guys :D. With much love, What'smyface.**

Ulquiorra had just gotten off his forty-eight hour shift. As he walks and stumbles towards his home, he rubs his tired eyes, trying to rid the stress of the day that just wouldn't end here. Unfortunately, he did not have the luxury of falling asleep when he got home. He would have to take a shower, get dressed, and go on a date with Grimmjow Jeagerjaques; the devil in human form.

When he opens his front door, his cat circles in and out between his feet. Not feeling in much of an affectionate mood, he staggers up the steps and into a very relaxing, warm shower. He glances at the clock on the wall that reads 6:03 PM. He sighs in frustration, as he quickly shampoos himself. He smells strawberries. And not just a small bit of this fragrance, but as though he were swimming in a massive batch of them. He wrinkles his nose and glances at the new shampoo bottle. "Strawberries, by fruit explosions." It was in a black bottle very similar to the shampoo he regularly buys. Usually he takes the time to check, but recently he just grabs things and goes. No wonder that bitchy cashier was smirking at him. She must've thought of him as a total fag. Bitch. "Are you fucking serious?" He snaps, "I smell like a girl!" He puts the shampoo down in irritation. "Damn it!"

He dries off, and hurries into his bedroom. He couldn't tell if the scent of strawberries was _that_ strong or if it was just his imagination making him worry.

In a daze, he pulls out black jeans. The only shirt that is clean and not on his floor is a black and white striped one, long sleeved. Not knowing where this occasion is taking place, he shrugs one shoulder and throws it on.

His stomach grumbles hungrily. He has not eaten much in the past forty-eight hours. Maybe a banana, some water, and three stale poptarts. But that was Ulquiorra; he didn't really care. About anything. Ever. And that was the way he wanted to keep it.

After feeding Pantera and brushing his teeth, he decides he has enough time checking his email. The newest one read;

**Dear Ulqui,**

**Your dad and I are really worried! You haven't called us in a while. We know you're busy at the hospital, but it'd mean a lot to us if you could find an hour to call or visit. Dr. Aomori said you missed your last three appointments… Dr. Narita said you haven't been to her office at all… Ulquiorra, just call us, okay?**

**Love Mom.**

**PS. I sent you the chocolate you love in the mail. XOXO**

Ulquiorra's eyes trail to the pill bottles on his dresser. As if in embarrassment, he turns his face away from his computer and bottles. _Humans are so weak. I am so weak._

He sways down the stairs and opens a bottle of vodka. In uncertainty, he takes a gulp and winces.

His plan isn't exactly to get drunk, but the vodka was more of an… encouraging kick?

Ulquiorra goes through the plan in his head again. _Keep it simple, stupid. Order the most expensive things. Try to make the bill as high as possible. Then, be as rude as humanly possible. Act so inhumanely cruel that he just goes home and hits a fucking pillow or something. All he wants is a stupid booty call. A one night stand. He wants to screw the emo kid, and brag to his little friends. Well, we're not going to let that happen, are we? _

He checks his clock and pulls on his shoes just as the doorbell rings. Ulquiorra opens it, uncertain.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" Grimmjow is leaning on his porch, provocatively. His face went from a seductive smirk, to shock. His eyebrows raise and he leans in, his nose by Ulquiorra's ear. Ulquiorra flinches, but he stands his ground. "You smell good," his hot breath dances across Ulquiorra's collarbone. He shivers in fear.

"C-come on," he stutters, unable to find his courage he previously had when he moronically took that vodka shot. "Let's get this o-over with."

As soon as Grimmjow turns around, Ulquiorra could relax and breathe without smelling Grimmjow's expensive cologne. He follows him to his flashy dark blue sports car. Grimmjow politely opens the door for him with a courteous 'I'm-such-a-sexy-gentleman' smirk.

Ulquiorra's eyes turn cold—well, colder than usual—as he grabs onto the car door, and slams it shut. He re-opens it himself and climbs in. Ulquiorra tugs the seatbelt and buckles up, ready for a very awkward car ride.

"Independence," Grimmjow says mirthfully, "I like it." He begins to drive, humming a cheerful tune.

Ulquiorra was quite sure that even if he wore a pair of footie PJs, Grimmjow would still find some sick, dirty pleasure about it. He keeps his arms crossed, and legs touching the car door to ensure Grimmjow would not try to touch _any_ part of him.

After a few minutes of silence, Grimmjow glances at Ulquiorra in the mirror. "So, strawberry fields—"

Ulquiorra cuts him off before he could even dream of continuing, "_Excuse me?_" he questions, turning his callous gaze on Grimmjow. His eyes narrow and his lips peel into a snarl. "What did you call me, fuck face?" Usually Ulquiorra calls him 'fuckhead', but today, thanks to a certain shot of vodka, he was going big, or going home. Which he _really_ wanted to do; just to go home. And sleep. Alone. Without a certain person in that bed.

"Strawberry fields. You just smell so _fruity_ that I couldn't resist giving you a cute nickname to match it."

Ulquiorra huffs out in repugnance and sheer embarrassment, "don't call me that…" _I need an insult, quick_, "limp dick."

Grimmjow leers, ready to set up his trap that Ulquiorra always falls into. "Awh, I miss it when you call me fuck face." He pouts in a certain whiny tone.

"Why?" Ulquiorra grumbles without thinking of the possible consequences that always seem to occur when Grimmjow is around.

"Because I know you secretly want to fuck my face." Grimmjow sniggers, glancing at Ulquiorra's crimson face. It is so red that it almost glows like a red Christmas decoration.

Ulquiorra breathes in sharply, unable to get enough air in. He cannot even think. He is so offended! Ulquiorra has never been mortified this much in this life.

"I love it when you go red." He turns his head at him, "Yep, that's the colour." Without permission, without even a warning, Grimmjow squeezes Ulquiorra's knee. Unable to move or react to anything, he just stays still and mortified.

He put a hand to his face to prevent Grimmjow to look at it. Most of all, he blocked his deer-in-the-headlights look from himself. He did not want to see his own ugly, red face.

Ulquiorra swallows hard and takes his hand off his face, finding his composure. He glowers at Grimmjow's hand. "Unhand me, you worthless tool."

Grimmjow guffaws, pulling into a parking lot. Ulquiorra slams open the door and tries to throw himself out of the car. To his humiliation, his seatbelt throws him back onto his seat; practically choking on the seatbelts safety. Stupid seatbelt saving people from being thrown out of cars. It was so terribly obvious that anything that can go wrong on this date, _will_ go wrong. Grimmjow laughs again, undoing Ulquiorra's seatbelt.

"It's called unlatching it first, and then jump out." Grimmjow tells him matter-of-factly, un-linking his own seatbelt.

Ulquiorra steps out of the car, acting as if it hadn't happened. _Just stay calm; don't let him get to you. Don't let him play mind games. _Grimmjow continues to snicker with glee. "Shut your fucking trap." Ulquiorra hisses at him, letting a very elderly couple have a frightful jump meters away from them.

The couple pass with wide eyes, glancing at Ulquiorra before the man asks his wife; "Do you think they're going to fight?"

The elderly woman shakes her head, "I know a smitten pair of lovers when I see them." Smiling happily, she adds, "Remember when Gilbert got his first boyfriend?"

Ulquiorra's face drops as he shudders at the thought of spending the rest of his life with Grimmjow. He knew what it would be like; _constant screaming, relentless mortification, moaning… it would never end. MOANING?_ Ulquiorra's eyes widen in his own annoyance. _Dear god, just what are you thinking of?_ He shakes his head, clearing away the influence Grimmjow must have over him. _It didn't happen. I didn't think that._ He growls in repulsion.

Grimmjow subtly puts his arm around Ulquiorra's waist, "Come on, _lover_," he chuckles at Ulquiorra's disturbed face, leading him into the fancy restaurant.

Ulquiorra's face pales at what he thought previously. _Lover. No. That would never happen. That trash couldn't handle me. He is not worthy of me. _His body was not yet ready to even think that way. He shivers at the mere mental image. And Ulquiorra _never_ shivers. Not before Grimmjow, anyway. He jumps dramatically as he notices Grimmjow's arm around his waist. "I thought we were going to a bar." He changes the subject, sidestepping out of Grimmjow's reach.

"That's after I pay for your meal, as agreed." Grimmjow smirks at the hostess, "Reservation under Jeagerjaques."

She searches through some papers and finds two menus, "right this way, sir." She weaves through the busy, bustling restaurant. She takes the two to a room labelled "Private room A".

"No." Ulquiorra stops in his tracks. There was no way in hell that he would spend time in a room alone with Grimmjow. That just wasn't going to happen.

The girl opens up the door; a huge aquarium full of exotic fish is beside a beautiful table set with roses. Ulquiorra's eyes widen in amazement as he watches a baby octopus swim in the tank. He had never seen one of those before. He glides into the room and right to the tank, ignoring the two other tables at the other side of the room.

Grimmjow's lips peel into a genuine smile as he watches Ulquiorra's guarded eyes turn fiery and passionate. For this moment, he would give any of his belongings to just gaze into those lively, rash eyes that are so full of wonder and beauty.

"This will do," he murmurs to the hostess; his eyes stay glued to the emerald eyed boy.

**A/N: Alright, so I have mentioned these mysterious pills and strange doctors. What could they be? What do they mean? Anyone want to guess? With love, JEWEL. **

**PS, The second half of the date… how do you think it'll go? I'd love to see some guesses!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This is a more serious chapter of Unmentionables. Of course there will still be funny chapters, but this is the beginning of a series of unfortunate pasts. If you want to make it feel more legitimate, I suggest going to .**

**I hope you cry, because that was what I was kind of going for!**

**A Memory, A Nightmare.**

Shifty eyes, streaming tears falling one after the other, sobs of anguish and despair fill the grassy landscape. Though, through the endless downpour, it was difficult to tell where tears began and the rain ended.

What wasn't green was black, what wasn't crying was almost there. Except for one boy. The boy that felt the guiltiest out of every single person dressed in black that Friday afternoon.

Men and women circled around the single coffin as it lowered into the ground, to never be seen again. Friends of that person were clinging to each other in remorse and unimaginable depression.

Not a touch of the sun's rays peeked over the grayish rain clouds. The city looked as though it were immersed in darkness, in hopelessness. And to Ulquiorra Schiffer, it was and will always be the day his happiness was washed always by the bleak, drab rain.

The landscape was covered with tombstones of the deceased. Who knew there were places on this world where the life was just sucked out of you? Even though the grass was so full of life, so green and healthy, the place was dead; just like the people in it.

People began putting items on top of the coffin; necklaces, pictures, flowers, his favourite candy… But not Ulquiorra. As his father moved his wheelchair toward the hole in the ground, he stared in with unseeing eyes.

He breathed in through the medical tubes providing him oxygen. Through the constant pitter-patter of the rain, he could still hear the beeping of his heart monitor. The very _reason_ he was there.

The artificial beauty of the funeral was suffocating; dreary white and black roses, pictures of his face… even the coffin itself; was so out of place.

His eyes closed as he clutched the stuffed animal in his small, fragile hands. He no longer wanted to see such synthetic things that made his mind swirl. But out of desperation to cling to his sanity, he had to get this over with. His eyes opened to see "Benny", that person's favourite stuffed animal. A small red octopus. The stuffed animal Ulquiorra gave that personhimself when he was five. Of course it wasn't much of anything; a cheap ten dollar toy that a five year old could afford to give a fifteen year old.

Ulquiorra's arm stretched out slowly as he dug his fingertips into the head of the octopus. It smiled sadly back at him; its yellow eyes peered into his, almost alive, and almost condemning him to be the horrible person he knew himself to be.

He dropped it in after giving its head one last final squeeze. His father's face was clouded by sadness as he wheeled Ulquiorra back to his mother's side.

The priest sombrely picked up a handful of dirt and tossed it atop the coffin; "We therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life."

First it was friends that picked up some soil, and then it was relatives. After everyone was gone, Ulquiorra's mother slowly took some soil in her own trembling hands and let it fall on the dark brown coffin. His father then took some and whispered to anyone and to no one at all, "God bless your soul." His shoulders began to twitch as he held the tears back, returning to his wife, and taking her into his arms.

Ulquiorra's pale hand trailed over the dirt as he mutely took his own pinch. He had not spoken for a week. How could he when the only person he talked to was being put in the ground to rot and decay into a mere skeleton?

He gradually let the bits of dirt fall from his fingers. But when the last piece of earth fell, something inside of him broke.

The Priest hit the lever that leisurely let the casket go down into the ground. "I'll leave you three alone." He said quietly, but loud enough to hear over the rain. "I am so sorry for your loss."

Ulquiorra hid under the vast black umbrella as the rain hurled down onto the graveyard. His eyes gazed up to an angel statue about ten metres in front of him. His eyes narrowed, zooming in on her face. The rain made it seem as if she was crying.

He touched his own face and felt nothing but cold, soft skin. His eyes trailed back to the lowering coffin. Weakly, he wheeled over to the handle and yanked it up.

"Ulquiorra, what are you doing? Stop it!" His mother wept, and she pulled his hands away from the lever.

He jerked his hands away from hers and again tried to reach for the lever.

"Stop it, Ulquiorra." His father told him softly. "He's gone."

His own face twisted in pain, and finally he felt hot tears melt his icy face. "No." he screamed and tugged at the lever.

His father grabbed the wheelchair and pulled him backwards, away from the coffin and closer to the crying angel statue.

"Stop," he cried, gripping onto the arms of the chair as his mother put the lever down once again. "Why did you let him die? Why didn't you let me die?"

His mother stepped towards Ulquiorra, holding her hands out in a comforting way.

"You could have saved him. There was hope!" He continued, even though his throat threatened to choke him. He shoved his mother's hands away from him. He didn't want anyone touching him. Their tainted hands… they were the ones who had decide this.

"He was declared brain dead, Ulquiorra. There was _nothing_ we could do." His father touched his face, wiping off some of the tears. He defiantly pushed his hand away.

"I HATE YOU!" He yelled at his father, his mother, his _brother_ that they were burying, the angel, God—if he existed—, and to himself. Most of all, he was yelling at himself. "I hate you," he shrieked again, this time pulling out the needles and wires attached to his body. He weakly stood up, holding onto the arm of the wheelchair for balance.

His parents were far too devastated to even manage a small croak.

He slowly staggered to the hole in the ground. Halfway there, his legs gave way. He pulled himself right to the edge and sat on his legs. "I should have been the one…" he whispered down to his dear, dead brother, "I should have been the one to go. But like some sort of… hero… you had to give me your heart. _I _was the one born with the bad heart! Not you! Why did you have to die? It was me! It was always my fate to die!" His throat clogged as his heart lurched in his chest, sending a painful current through his body. "Go to hell! This is your entire fault! God will punish you for forcefully making yourself brain dead!" Ulquiorra's hand, dirty with mud and grass, held his chest, right near his heart. "Just stop beating!" He yelped, with his other fist pounding the ground. "Just die with the rest of your body. Just let me die like I was supposed to!"

And that was the last thing his brother ever gave to him. The only thing Ulquiorra needed to survive; a healthy heart in place of his weak, deficient one. That is just what he gave him.

His eyes turned fuzzy as he laid his head on the soft, wet ground. He clutched the grass with all his might as he parents plucked him into their arms.

That day he became the boy that never cried again. The boy that never laughed again. The boy that lost his smile. The boy that was never going to love himself, accept himself, or love anyone else in fear of letting them slip through those pale, muddy fingers of a child who blamed the death of his hero on himself. He would never let his pain go. And he would never, ever forget what his brother did to save him.

**Present.**

Ulquiorra's eyes watch the baby octopus swirl in the tank; watching him with familiar, condemning yellow eyes. His stomach flips as his hand reaches his heart. And even just for a moment, he feels the cold, wet rain on his face.

"Are you alright, sunshine?" Grimmjow purrs sweetly, taking his own glance at the octopus in the tank.

Ulquiorra turns his gaze back to the table. _No. I was never alright._

**A/N: Special thanks to the **_**Serbian**_**. [Nickname]. I sort of maybe kind of like you, frienemy. It's possible. **

**Alright. Hopefully I didn't make anyone too sad. As I said, this fanfic can be very funny, and very sad. Well. Review; tell me how you think and feel! :D **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: WARNING: VIEWER DISCRETION IS STRONGLY, STRONGLY ADVISED. MORBID HUMOUR WAS EXPLICITLY USED. IF EASILY OFFENDED, I SUGGEST YOU SKIP THIS CHAPTER. NO OFFENCE IS MEANT TO ANYONE. Thank you for those who have PM'd me to hurry up and update. I know. I need to get my ass in gear. Because we all want Grimmjow to get his ass in gear and grab Ulquiorra and just throw him— well. Um. PMs and reviews are heavily appreciated. Cheers. **

"This was your big plan? Act like a bitchy thirteen year old girl on her period, order the five most expensive dishes, wrap _four_ of them up to take home, and you _think_ that I'm going to… give a shit?" Grimmjow's mouth peeled up into a dangerous, psychotic grin. "I have more money than you could spend in a lifetime, sunshine. Go ahead and order five more."

Ulquiorra shrugs one shoulder blandly, and continues to pick at the expensive steak before him. _Money won't turn him off. What on this fucking boring world will? _He contemplates the things that turn him off on a date. Not that he's ever really had any. Things that annoy him; _when they come on too strong, when they smell ghastly, when they talk about stupid shit I really would never give a fuck about—Now there's an idea. Verbal diarrhea about cats. That will surely send him flying out the door as if he had the runs himself. _Ulquiorra's eyes flick up to meet Grimmjow's. His tongue glides across his pale lips in preparation. The wine has already made him slightly inebriated.

"Here we go," Grimmjow mutters under his breath, smirking at Ulquiorra's resolute gaze.

Ulquiorra ignored his cocky little comment, and began in the same monotone, depressed, and emotionless voice. "I love cats. I have a cat. My cat is named Pantera." _Most men hate cats. If I were to repeat the word 'cats' enough, he will eventually snap._ "He's a great cat; four years old. That's how long I have had him…" Silence washed over them. It was quite uncomfortable. Ulquiorra really didn't have anything to say. _What else do men dislike? _"I love romance movies, I love…" _What's a book every man hates? What's that stupid, ridiculous vampire book? _"The book Moonlight, I love long walks on the beach and I hate every sport ever played on Earth." _Most men love sports._

Grimmjow's lips peel into an even wider smirk, flashing some of his brilliantly white teeth. Apparently none of the intimidating and annoying comments were getting anywhere.

_Weirding him out may be the only option. _"I sometimes wear dresses on Tuesdays and Thursdays, especially when I watch the children walk home from school. I _love_ kids. Sometimes I even have sexual fantasies involving them and their little Hot Wheels backpacks."

A couple and their child, also sharing Private room A, turn and narrow their eyes at Ulquiorra's back, unsure of what they heard. They convinced themselves that they had heard the boy wrong, and turned around. However; their pace of eating sped up rapidly, in fear of the sexual predator sitting at the table across the room. Little did they know, Ulquiorra was just desperately trying to rid himself of this sexual tyrant; Grimmjow Jeagerjaques.

His face turns a deep red in frustration. "The reason I want to become a surgeon is so I can legally cut into bodies. Not for the money, or for the satisfaction of being a hero. I just like to put my hands inside of bodies!" Ulquiorra's temper was beginning to flame. His whispers became coated in hatred and anxiety as he leaned forward into the table.

However, Grimmjow remained calm. His unwavering grin was still plastered on his gorgeous face. His teal hair shimmers in the dim lighting, and his eyes speculate every inch of him. "I'm glad we have so much in common."

Ulquiorra leans back in his chair in disbelief. After all he had just said… _nothing_ freaked him out. Hell, the things that had come flying out of his own mouth… creeped him out.

"But… I must disagree with you on one thing." Grimmjow leans forward this time, putting his hands on the table, beside his plate of pasta. "I like being a surgeon because of the money. And I am very good with my hands." He stretches out his long, pristine hands. "It's all in the fingers though. They're steady… and agile."

_Here it comes, _Ulquiorra thought hopelessly as Grimmjow's mouth curled into a sneer.

"How many do you want inside you tonight, doll face? Pick your number."

Ulquiorra remains expressionless. _All he wants is a reaction. Just remain calm. If he doesn't get his reaction, he will get bored and leave. _

Finally, the couple and their child leave, casting nervous glances back at Grimmjow and Ulquiorra's table.

"The book was called 'Twilight', by the way. Not Moonlight."

Ulquiorra rolls his eyes and picks up his wine. His eyes narrow before he sips it.

"Don't worry; I didn't slip anything in there. Yet." Grimmjow sniggers as he sips his own water.

"Let's have a bet." Ulquiorra stares at Grimmjow coolly, cocking his head to one side. "If I win, you will treat me like a regular intern. With perks."

Grimmjow's smirk falters. "Perks? What kind of perks?"

"I get all the surgeries when I want them. And no more stupid boring assignments, and harassment _of any form_. Don't even talk to me unless it's about work."

"If I win, you go on nine more dates with me." He replies, and then smirks playfully. "And the sexiest lap dance a man could ever have."

"I would rather sleep in trash for a week, than even touch a bastard like you." Ulquiorra mumbles harshly, tapping his fingers on the table.

"Fine. Just the dates then." Grimmjow growls, clearly disappointed. "It'll be a drinking game. We'll take shots and walk in a straight line. And when someone is too inebriated to walk, then they lose."

Ulquiorra's lip twitched upwards. _I have just the idea on how to win._ "Deal."

They both sign a napkin to assure each other that they wouldn't go back on the agreement.

Ulquiorra stands rigidly, throwing his napkin on the table. "I'm going to the bathroom." He announces to Grimmjow, sidestepping away from his chair.

"Going to change your tampon?" He sniggers bitterly, resting his arm on his hand, pulling out his cell phone with the other.

"Yes," Ulquiorra retorts, expressionless and unimpressed. "Happen to have a dollar-twenty-five?"

Grimmjow chuckles and continues texting, possibly caught up in some other booty-call that was probably going to occur late this night.

Ulquiorra didn't care. In fact, he didn't care so much, that he just continued on his way towards the heavily populated restaurant to the bar. Yes. _To the bar_. Ulquiorra did have a plan. A strategy which insured his safety. A light weight like himself going up against the great Grimmjow? How ridiculous. Obviously he would lose. Unless…

_Unless_. Such a bleak word. Yet a word with many possibilities with hundreds of different outcomes. And all those outcomes? They would be in Ulquiorra's favour. How, you may ask. Well… A little white lie may help. As long as a big, hefty tip to the bar to carry out his mischievous plan. Ulquiorra, as devious and honest as he is; made sure to leave out from the rules that you are allowed to cheat.

He stops in front of the bar, tapping his fingernails impatiently.

A brunette male glides over to him, polishing a shot glass. "Can I help you with anything tonight, sir?"

Ulquiorra read his name tag, 'Henry'. "I think you can, Henry." Ulquiorra mumbles silently, reaching into his wallet and pulling out a wallet. "I think you can help me, if I help you."

Henry takes the money and slides it into his pocket. "I'm your man. What can I do for you?" His smile spreads eagerly, awaiting his order. _Like a good working class male._ Ulquiorra purrs, obviously satisfied by the sudden turn of events. His odds of winning against that punk ass Grimmjow have soared through the roof by now.

"I am having alcoholic shots with the world's largest, most annoying piece of trash. We are having… a little bet, you could call it."

The man narrowed his eyes and nodded. "So it'd be in my best interest if I…?" He trails off, letting Ulquiorra fill in his command.

"If you gave us different coloured glasses. And… put water in the green one, instead of alcohol? And why don't you go ahead and make the other one doubles." Ulquiorra adds with a hint of confidence. This is why Ulquiorra Schiffer should not drink. He gets cocky, he says random, morbid things that easily disturb ninety-eight percent of society, and he also falls asleep. In random men's beds, apparently.

"Alright, I'll do my best," Henry chirps cheerfully, pulling out a blue shot glass.

Ulquiorra turns to leave, but swivels again, taking a mint candy and shoving it in his pocket. As he re-enters Private room A, Grimmjow has his phone put away, and a grin waiting for his return. He sits down slowly, noticing their plates were gone. He gazes at the emptiness of the black table.

"If you weren't done with it, I'm sure your four other meals can satisfy you." Grimmjow hums teasingly, just as the first round comes.

The waitress sets down the glasses in front of them with a smile.

Ulquiorra quickly snatches the green glass and swigs it down. He was satisfied… until he felt the uncomfortable burn of strong alcohol. A cold, creepy feeling crawls up his back. His eyes widen as he stares at the glass. It was green. It was the colour he had specifically told Henry…

"Something wrong?" Grimmjow asks, tipping his glass back and standing up, walking perfectly straight.

Ulquiorra also strides in a straight line. But the foreboding feeling was lingering. His plan… it was fool proof. But that idiot… _Of course. The Laws of the Universe will obviously prove that anything that can go wrong on this date will go wrong. _

As the second round enters, Ulquiorra lunges for the green glass again, draining it dry. Still the same strong alcohol. _Fuck. _

The third round, Ulquiorra had an idea. Grimmjow looked far too pleased with himself to just enter this stupid bet without a plan. Instead of grabbing the green glass, he swipes the blue one from Grimmjow's grasp.

The burn in his mouth proves him wrong again. Wrong, wrong, and wrong. Ulquiorra lays his head on the table before standing and walking in a semi-straight line.

He was beginning to feel it. And no matter what he did, he knew he was going to go down first. He may go down swinging, but he was definitely going to lose. Grimmjow had self-control. He did not react at all. But Ulquiorra knew he was drinking…

By the tenth round, Ulquiorra could hardly stand. Those many glasses of wine were not doing him any justice.

"Alright, darling," Grimmjow purrs sarcastically to Ulquiorra, dragging him from his seat, and out of the room. "I think we've had enough fun for one night. Unless you wanted me to come back to your place. Because if you added a little 'me' to your life, I don't think you'd ever be bored again."

Ulquiorra's vision was completely distorted. People's faces swirled, and his stomach lurched at every movement. "Why aren't you drunk?" He slurs, sloppily falling into the back seat of Grimmjow's car.

Grimmjow chuckles, "In the rules, you never said that cheating was not allowed." Grimmjow pulls out of the parking lot, driving as sober as ever. "Oh, and you're never getting that tip from Henry back."

Ulquiorra's face drains of colour. _Fuck. _


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Yeah, I have a huge disliking of Orihime. Or UlquiHime. SO. I'm sorry if you're an UlquiHime fan. I just really hate her. A lot. If you couldn't tell. AND PS. TO THE SLENDERMAN WHO COMMENTED; I hope you know that you're the reason I stare at my closet at night. I know you want more updates, and I feel like the longer I put off updating, the more I will get violated by Slendie in my sleep. Oh god. This one's for you Slenderman. Please don't haunt me in my dreams anymore.**

"Hey, Ulquiorra!" Orihime Inuoe, the big busted ginger intern had chirped to him in an irritatingly joyful voice. At six AM, the last person you wanted to be standing beside was a perky, incompetent woman who shouldn't even be a doctor in the first place.

After Ulquiorra's silence settles between them, she continues anyway.

"So…" She sings in a hushed, gossiping tone. "I heard you and Dr. Jeagerjaques are dating." She giggles nervously and carries on. "It kind of sucks for us single ladies because he's really handsome."

Ulquiorra's anger bubbles up into his cheeks. He unlocks his metal locker and rams it open, consequently slamming the door into her forehead.

She stumbles back and puts a hand to her forehead, "OW!" She whines, gaping dumbly at him.

Ulquiorra turns to her with mock surprise. "Oh. How tragic." He callously mumbleds. "My trash detector didn't go off." _I lied. It did. Hence why your forehead was bashed._

She gives him that sad, shocked, deer-in-the-head-lights look. Her mouth droops and she stares at him dim-wittedly.

_No wonder men take advantage of girls like her. If she is always this unintelligent with that open mouth of hers, even the simplest of words will court her. _

Ulquiorra closes his locker and stalks out the door, into the hallways. He met up at the nurses' station where Nnoitra usually demands them to meet up. The pale, overly joyous halls drain his energy as he awaits his resident.

Yammy turns the corner in the hall in front of him and stops a few meters from him. They both exchange uncomfortable glances. Ulquiorra gazes very far upward and Yammy glares downward. Ulquiorra coldly shrugs him off and twirls a pen between his fingers.

As Nnoitra Gilga turns the corner, he grabs some charts off the counter and begins their rounds. Ulquiorra ignores the other interns frolicking along behind him. He just keeps his nose in the air, and out of trouble.

"On rectal exams…" Nnoitra mumbles, flipping open a chart.

Ulquiorra's heart thuds erratically.

"Yammy. You," he points to another intern, one Ulquiorra never paid any mind to, "Sutures. The rest of you, come with me."

Ulquiorra glances back at Yammy who grumbled, "God damn it."

_Take that, you insignificant mewling quim. _Ulquiorra thinks haughtily. He had "Google'd" insults to use on Grimmjow. Fuck head and trash weren't working out so well. Mewling quim would be ten times more effective and insulting.

They halt outside a small hospital room's door. The only three left were Ulquiorra, Nnoitra himself, and Luppi—that really disturbing kid with anomalous hair.

"One of you will watch in the OR while Dr. Jeagerjaques is performing the surgery. Whoever he doesn't pick comes with me." Nnoitra mutters down at them. They proceed into the room where, obvious enough, a sleeping patient and Grimmjow were waiting.

Ulquiorra awkwardly averts his eyes to the wall beside them. Their date on Friday… two nights ago… Ulquiorra didn't particularly want to ever remember that. Because of reasons. For example; being inebriated, humiliated, and even waking up inside his own house. He didn't remember being _carried_ by Grimmjow at all. He must have fallen asleep inside his very nice, very expensive sports car. To think, he didn't even make sick in it. _I am so disgusted in myself. I can't even look him in the eye… not to mention I have more dates with him._

"Dr. Schiffer," Grimmjow's deep, voluptuous purr stirs Ulquiorra from his thoughts. "You ready to see your first live surgery?"

"Of course," Luppi hisses under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Grimmjow inquires, raising an eyebrow. He pats the sedated patient's shoulder and strolls over to the foot of the bed. He sits down and crosses his arms. His posture and position makes him utterly menacing.

Luppi catches drift of his dangerous attitude and keeps his lips shut.

"Last time I checked, Ulquiorra had high marks in his University, and got the biggest score on all the tests that each intern took. So why don't you ask me again why I chose him?"

Luppi's expression was quite priceless, as if Grimmjow had impaled him.

"I'll admit to anybody that he's nice to look at, but by a long shot, he has the most potential displayed thus far. So…"

"Luppi," Nnoitra aids him with his name.

"Luppi. Go get a new hair cut, get laid, come back and just _try_ to talk back to me. Because then, maybe, you _will_ be worth my time. Maybe." Grimmjow leaned forward and grins his maniacal, lopsided grin.

Nnoitra takes Luppi by the arm and pushes him back out the door. For sure, he was too dumbfounded to move.

"I think he just shit himself," Grimmjow cackles, hopping off the bed towards Ulquiorra.

The raven haired man averts his emerald eyes again, but he admitted; _that was sort of humorous. Only slightly._

"Hey, doll face," Grimmjow whispers in that growl of a voice.

"Mewling quim," Ulquiorra nods his head in acknowledgement, but otherwise finds the wall to be the center of his attention.

Grimmjow sputters and erupts in hoots of laughter. "Do you even know what that means?"

Ulquiorra narrows his eyes and turns to Grimmjow, who is still sniggering. "Of course."

"No, you don't." Grimmjow accuses, surely.

Ulquiorra stands his ground, unmoving and unblinking. _Not at all. What did it even mean? _

Grimmjow clicks his tongue. "So, Henry said thanks for the tip." Grimmjow changes the subject, allowing Ulquiorra's face to flash pink.

"Ah." Ulquiorra clenches his jaw. "I would thank him for the hangover, but he's not worth a minute of my spare time."

Grimmjow chuckles as other doctors wheel the patient out of the room. Ulquiorra follows hastily, avoiding a discomfited walk with Grimmjow.

Yet, that man caught up with his long legs, and hummed.

"Thank you," Ulquiorra mumbles. "No one has stuck up for me in…" He trails off, his eyes finding the floor nervously. _Since my brother… _"In a long time. Thank you."

Grimmjow smiles genuinely, and pats Ulquiorra's head. This was the first time Ulquiorra had stunned him into being wordless. He couldn't express what he was feeling; confusion, sympathy, and even happiness.

But most of all, he had a warm feeling in his chest. For once, he didn't just beleaguer someone. He had protected Ulquiorra from doubting his abilities. He knew perfectly well Ulquiorra was anti-social. He also figured he had been bullied. Both are correct. But for Grimmjow, bullying was something he had always done. For once, sticking up for the nerd… instilled a new happiness. One much more powerful than the contentment of dominating and harassing.

**A/N: There. Finally. A happily ending chapter where Ulquiorra doesn't need to cry himself to sleep over. Good job Ulqui. NOW KISS.**


End file.
